


A Feeling

by linatrinch



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Finn Character Study, Force-Sensitive Finn (Star Wars), Kinda Fluffy, M/M, Misunderstandings, Poe Dameron Hurts So Prettily, Post-Star Wars: The Last Jedi, Sparring, Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker Spoilers, Whump? a little, a bit bittersweet and angsty, flirty banter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-14
Updated: 2020-01-14
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:41:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22249585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/linatrinch/pseuds/linatrinch
Summary: Finn's been on an undercover mission for more than a month. He's more than ready to get off the space station and find his way back home. Luckily, he ends up catching a ride.Takes place between TLJ and TROS but spoilers for the latter are in here. Mostly a Finn character study.
Relationships: Poe Dameron/Finn
Comments: 16
Kudos: 198





	A Feeling

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, I loved TRoS. I know, right? Rip me.
> 
> But regardless, I am D Y I N G for some EU Finn-centric content that tackles that whole Force thing. So, in between my daily sacrificial rituals to Lucasfilm, I thought I'd write up a little of my own in the meantime.
> 
> My on-going fic's still in the works. I just had to pull some of this out of my brain.

Finn would do nearly anything for the Resistance, that wasn't put to contest, but there were some chores he liked more than others. Undercover missions were, decidedly, not his favorite chore to do. He was a terrible liar, he knew this, but having lived in the First Order all his life gave him the knowledge to be a great spy. If only knowledge was all it took.

Since he was actually a kind of terrible spy, Command would often send him on the undercover ops that didn't require a lot of finesse. They were 'get in, get out' sort of deals, which he could tolerate. But things went wrong on his most recent 'get in, get out' gig, and he'd been on this op for-...

Wait, how long had been out here? A month? Whatever, the point was that he was finally at the end of his mission. He'd been on this space station way too long, been wearing a bounty hunter's helmet to obscure his face for longer. He _hated_ wearing these sorts of disguises. Felt too familiar to something else.

With the mission complete, he had no desire to stick around and draw out going home. The smart thing to do would be to wait on a transport to come in later on in the week, hitch a ride with everyone else heading off the station and start making his hops from there. He'd be back with the Resistance in maybe another week or two going that way.

But since he was disguised as a bounty hunter, Finn figured that _borrowing_ a ship from the hangar would go along with his criminal backstory thing. It wasn't like anyone on this station was an upstanding citizen anyway. Even with his features obscured, he'd been threatened and jabbed and punched at least a dozen times for just existing. Not that he sat there and took it, mind. Even managed to get the smarter ones to back off within his first three days on board. That was just how life was in this place. Rough.

Finn hated how well he'd adapted to this sort of climate. All he wanted to do was go home.

And he was working on that right now, actually, striding confidently into the hangar like he was there for a more reputable reason. All he needed was a ship that wasn't flashy, had a hyperdrive, preferably was armed, wasn't being guarded by a goon or two, and didn't belong to someone on the station that would track him down. Also something that didn't look too complicated. Poe had taught him the basics of flying, but even landing was still a tricky maneuver for him to pull off.

A light freighter came into view, old but kept up, and didn't look to be protected. Finn strode over, only feeling a _little_ guilty, and opened the ramp with a simple touch of a button. He pulled his blaster from the holster at his hip, always feeling suspicious when something decided to happen easily.

He walked into the ship, keeping his confident appearance, and only slowed to a more cautious pace once the ramp was closed again. Suddenly being struck by how stupid this idea was, he decided to make sure the ship was totally vacated first. For some reason, it didn't really seem like it was... which was plausible since it _wasn't his ship_. Maybe he should wait for public transit like a smart person would do. It was just that the nagging feeling to get home fast had been driving him-

A sudden move from around the corner had him leveling his blaster to aim, the likely owner of the ship doing the same. The other person was bipedal, humanoid, and covered from head to toe in armored tactical gear. Not a Stormtrooper, despite the helmet that obscured the other with a dark transparisteel faceplate.

They also hadn't shot him yet.

… They weren't going to shoot him. They didn't _want_ to.

But he couldn't risk it.

Finn grabbed their wrist and pulled the blaster's aim off of him, but before he could try to disarm them, the owner of the ship ducked under his hold and twisted his arm. A practiced move. All right, then.

Still gripping their wrist, he pulled them forward and kicked at the back of their ankles. Even with their balance off, Finn had to press on their shoulder and follow them to the floor. Sadly, that seemed to be the intention. The other's free arm crossed his other, grabbing the side of Finn's neck and flipping them until they were the one on top.

But Finn kept the momentum and swung the other to the floor on the opposite side, sending his enemy's blaster clattering away, nearly hitting Finn in the face. Or, well, the mask. Whatever, the point was that his enemy was down, their arms were crossed, and he was the only one with a blaster now.

But his opponent, brave or stupid or both, brought his knee up to Finn's stomach before lunging his head forward to Finn's skull. His stomach was protected enough to the point that the hit only made him loosen his grip slightly too much. The headbutt had him pulling back to dodge, giving the other an opening to keep using the hand on Finn's neck and get them off of their sides. Finn was on top again then on the bottom again then his elbow was tucked under the enemy's arm and twisted enough for the blaster to leave his hand.

Finn yanked them back the way they came and used the brief second he was on top to get the vibroknife from the sheath on his leg. The opponent didn't even notice, so focused on keeping the upper hand that Finn was on his back again almost instantly. What _he_ didn't notice is that they had a vibroknife, too.

Both of them stilled, his attacker with a hand to his throat and knife in front of his face, and him with a fist in the other's shirt and knife a hair's breadth from his neck.

Finn wasn't sure what had given it away. Maybe all the sparring they did or a testament to how much time they spent together. Something like that. He was steadily heaving for breath when he asked, “Done flirting yet?”

The other froze and there was a moment's pause before he began to laugh. “How'd you know it was me?”

Finn shook his head. “Let's just say you're way better at flying than sparring.”

“ _Aaah_.” Poe pulled the knife away, letting go of his throat to wag his finger in Finn's face instead. “Don't give me that. I had you. It counts.”

“That doesn't count,” he grumbled as Poe stood and offered a hand to help Finn up, which he gratefully took. “There were weapons involved. If anything, it was a draw.”

“Nah, it counts.” Poe shook his head and stepped away to grab his blaster. “Your arm okay?”

He was rolling his shoulder around when asked, able to provide an honest answer. “Yeah.” Little sore. Nothing worse than their usual sparring matches. Then, because the digs were his favorite parts of this, “You aren't _that_ tough, Dameron.”

“Uh-huh,” his friend answered, tossing his blaster back to him. “Not like you to end up pinned.”

“Yeah, well, you shouldn't get your arms crossed during a fight.”

Poe mumbled something that sounded _suspiciously_ like he was mocking Finn, but it was too hard to tell with his face hidden beneath the mask. Not to mention he was already walking away to, what Finn presumed, was the cockpit.

He followed. “Why are you out here, anyway?”

“On the tail of a weapon's contractor for the Order. Finally picked up instructions on where to meet her.” The cockpit was bigger than the _Falcon_ 's despite there still only being seats for the pilot and co-pilot. The rest of the space was taken up by a long dashboard with more controls on the ceiling and walls. Yeah, Finn never would have been able to fly this nonsense. “You?”

“Sabotaged a few billion of their cargo shipments.” Finn patted the breast pocket hidden beneath thick leather. “Got schedules for the next six months of them, too.”

“Never do shit by halves, do you?” Poe laughed, moving to stand in front of the pilot's seat and flick a few switches on the overhead. Then he paused and slowly turned. “Wait... Why were you in here?”

… Oh. Uh.

Unfortunately, his pause was too long. Poe dropped his arm. “Were you trying to steal my ship?”

“No.”

“You were trying to steal my ship!”

“Oh, like this is _yours_.”

“It _is_ mine... now.”

Finn crossed his arms.

Poe looked up at the ceiling with a loud groan. “I borrowed it from a couple of bounty hunters who might have recognized me, all right? That's a better story than whatever _you're_ about to come up with.”

“I'm about ten percent more sure than I'm comfortable with that someone's going to slit my throat on this station next time I fall asleep.”

Poe spread his arms. “Well, we all have our excuses, don't we?” With a huff, he turned back around but cursed from something he saw outside and quickly ducked under the dash.

Finn followed him on instinct, diving under and gripping the co-pilot seat. “What's wrong?”

“I owe that guy money.”

What was Finn to do, honestly? He blinked very slowly, sad over the fact that Poe couldn't see the look on his face right now. Even so, he levered up a bit to see outside, noticing a Zabrak and Twi'lek arguing off to the side. Which guy Poe was referring to was unclear but didn't really matter since they were both angry. Finn ducked beneath the console again. “How long have you been here?”

Another pause. “What time is it?” Before Finn could finish his exhausted groan, Poe waved a hand at him. “It wasn't like that. I had to join a Sabacc game to get the information.”

“You're _terrible_ at Sabacc.”

“Which is why we're hiding.” Finn was shaking his head and about to say something else when Poe reached on top of the dash to fiddle with some of the controls, his neck craning to barely see what he was doing. “Where are you headed?”

Well, they apparently weren't going to talk about that Sabacc game. Finn sighed and sat on the floor more comfortably with his back against the wall and legs stretched out. “My mission's done. Was trying to get back to base.”

“Ahh,” Poe grumbled, shaking his head and stretching a little more to see what he was doing. “I can drop you off at a spaceport but that might take over a day. Unless you're willing to wait on the station, of course.”

Ha. Hahaha. “Nah. What about your mission? Need a hand?”

“I thought you were _desperate_ to get back.”

“Desperate to get out of here. That's different.” Home wasn't a place for him, anyway, but that was a difficult thing to say sometimes.

Poe seemed to buy it well enough, though, and just shrugged. “Sure. Could always use your help. You've got a day to think it over.”

“I'll use the time wisely.” By sleeping through most of it. The sabotage was a success, and the information could be encrypted and sent to the Resistance while they were in hyperspace along with his explanation of joining with Poe on his mission. The debrief might be a little late, but that wouldn't be too much of a problem. His mind was already made up.

Hopefully, Command would let him continue on and not call him back.

The freighter's engines roared to life, and Poe practically leaped into the pilot's seat. “Okay, here we go.”

That's how things were with Poe. Everything was calm until it wasn't. He'd _hate_ that quality about him if he didn't love it so much. But Finn still let out a low curse as he got up to take the co-pilot seat, noticing the Zabrak and Twi'lek making a run for their ship. He wasn't even surprised that they knew what ship Poe was flying.

They lifted off and shot out of the station like a bolt. “Anything back there you still need to grab?” Poe asked, inputting coordinates he apparently memorized.

“Nope.”

“Good.”

The ship banked to the left, and Poe pushed forward on the lever above their heads. The stars stretched by them and blended together in a brilliant aurora.

Something from Finn's shoulders lifted, finally relaxing. He leaned back in the seat and sighed. “I guess that means we can never go back there.”

“Didn't figure you wanted to, anyway.” Poe tapped away at a few controls on the dash that Finn honestly didn't understand. Looked important, though. “Looks like you and me are headed to Eriadu, buddy. Gonna be some fun times.”

“I bet,” Finn grumbled, at least happy that this sounded like a populated place and not some desert world again or something. Speaking of a lot of people that could recognize him, Finn _finally_ lifted off his helmet with a sigh. Of course, he'd taken it off on the station every now and then, but there was nothing like the feeling of not having to put it back on again... for a while.

He ran a hand through his hair, lips ticking up on the side just from the feeling. He'd been growing it out, hardly let anyone come at him with a pair of scissors or a razor. Even stifled inside a helmet all day, it was worth it.

“Hair's still looking good.”

Finn glanced over to the pilot, who was looking at him but had gone still. Sometimes, Poe complimented him and tensed up like he expected Finn to take it in a bad way or something. Even now, he laughed. “Thanks. Someone tried to talk me into giving it _a little trim_ for this mission. I told them to stuff it.” Well, no, he was much more polite to them than that. But the meaning remained. He tossed the offensive helmet, happily letting it clack on the floor. “Your hair's gotten used to being stuffed into a helmet a long time ago, though.”

“Eh.” Poe turned back to the stars streaking by, waving a hand at him again. “I'm always pretty.”

Silence descended on them. It would have been a comfortable silence besides the fact that... something seemed to be wrong. Finn kept staring at him, tilting his head a little as if a new angle would make it clearer. But the fact that Poe wasn't doing anything was enough to tip him off. “Prove it.”

Poe looked back to him, paused, and asked, “Prove what?”

“That you're still pretty,” he answered, motioning his finger upwards as if he could take the helmet off with the Force. The words would have probably sounded funny under any other circumstances...

The beat of silence made it a little obvious, though, despite the laugh Put put on to try covering it up. “Missed my face that much?”

This time, the pilot got to actually see Finn's slow, tired blink. “You have to take it off sooner or later.”

Another pause before Poe huffed, his body sagging like he'd just deflated. “Leia's taught you how to nag,” he grumbled, taking the helmet off with slow, deliberate moves.

Finn grimaced. Poe _was_ still pretty, but the black eye and cut on his cheek were definitely trying to muddy up his look. “I'd love to know how you were planning on hiding that.”

“I wasn't.” Yes, he was. He just didn't make a plan. Poe rolled his eyes. “The bounty hunters might have roughed me up a little. I'm fine, though. It's not that bad.”

Finn stood up, walking over to gently tilt Poe's face towards him by the chin, getting a good look at the wound. “They need to stop sending us on solo missions.”

“We don't have the numbers-” He winced when Finn tried to check how tender the bruise was. “ _Easy_.”

Finn straightened. “We'll have fewer numbers if your luck keeps up. C'mon, let's find a medkit.”

“My luck's just fine,” Poe grumbled, standing up and letting Finn steer him to the cabin with a hand pressed to his shoulder.

They've all been stretched thin lately, none of them actually complaining. There was just too much to handle, too much to sift through. Too much work to be done. They _didn't_ have the numbers to handle it all, not with the First Order always breathing down their necks. Sometimes, extra risks had to be taken.

But Finn was getting tired of these risks. Not for him, he was more than able to handle himself on that station. Bounty hunters cornering Poe while he was alone, though? What was Command thinking? Poe Dameron was far too valuable to the Resistance for him to be sent on that kind of mission by himself.

Hence why Finn wasn't reporting back just yet... Yeah, he was loyal to them and believed in the fight, but his family came first. They would always come first.

He pushed Poe down until the other sat on the bed with a put-upon huff. The fact that he wasn't actively arguing against medical treatment clued Finn into just how bad he was feeling, though. How long ago did he find those bounty hunters, anyway?

Finn sat next to him and opened the medkit he procured from beneath the bed, finally breaking the silence. “Was it just your pretty face they smashed up?”

“Don't say smashed,” Poe grimaced, almost looking offended. Finn _did_ say he was still pretty, but before he could argue about the topic, Poe slapped a hand over his stomach. “They didn't break anything, no bleeding. Just bruised to hell. Not much I was able to do about my _smashed face_ before showing up at your station, though.”

“I said it was a pretty face,” Finn mumbled beneath his breath, digging through the kit until he found a tube of bacta gel. He scooted around to face Poe, gesturing for him to do the same. “Here, this'll sting-”

Poe hissed and drew back as soon as the gel touched the cut. Finn wasn't totally sure if he was acting or not but twisted his lips, anyway. “C'mere, you man-baby.”

“I resent that,” Poe said with a big pout as he was pulled forward again, still wincing but holding still as Finn started patching him up. “I resent all of this, actually. You break into my ship, I give you a free ride, and now you're pouring literal molten lava on my face. Who's winning here?”

“The lava probably,” Finn murmured quietly in reply, more caught up in what he was doing than whatever Poe was babbling about. Making his head roar was part of his coping skills, after all. But before anything else could be said, Finn was done applying the gel. “There, how's that feel?”

“Like you just poured molten-”

“That's great,” Finn interrupted while he dug through the medkit again. He pulled out a couple of small bandages. “How about besides the lava?”

When he turned back, Poe was giving him a grumpy stare. “Considering the skin hasn't melted off yet, it's apparently great.”  
  
“Great. The burning should stop soon. It's just disinfecting it.” While the pilot sighed again, Finn started on opening the bandages. “How long ago did this happen?”

Poe stretched his neck, tilting his head this way and that like it would help the burning stop faster. “Day or so. The hunters were green. Just happened to cross my path and recognized me. Said it was the hair.” Finn laughed and Poe ignored him. “Anyway, they got drunk almost immediately because they had _finally made it_ or something. I started talking shit to distract them, they might have taken it the wrong way, we had a disagreement, they got bored, passed out, and I stole their ship.”

“Disagreement,” Finn repeated, shaking out the sterile bandage. “That's what we're calling it now?”

“I theorized that one of their mothers had been a nerf, and they politely disagreed with my assessment in a very reasonable and cool-headed manner.”

“Right.” To think that Poe had been beaten this badly over something so stupid, but there was no doubt that he'd been riling them up for a while before the actual confrontation happened. Either way, something so random scared Finn just a little more. If he had to guess by just the bruises that he could see, Poe had probably been scared, too. He'd like to ask if Poe really was okay but knew he wouldn't get an actual answer.

Instead, he folded the bandage together, got his tape ready, and leaned closer to Poe again. “Here. Almost done.” There was no answer, though, aside from a little cringe when the bandage rubbed against the wound. It was when Poe was silent that Finn worried the most, but he said nothing. He only secured the bandage and started shaking out the second one.

Finn had folded it up and was about to apply it, too, when Poe finally spoke again. “You had a lot of time to think on this station?”

“Sometimes too much,” he answered quietly but honestly, still focused on his work to cross it over the first bandage. “There was usually too much going on to think, but I had trouble falling asleep. Started thinking way too much at those times.”

“About what?” Poe's voice was distant, a mix between serious and depressed.

Finn hated it so he carried on like normal. “Usual stuff. How much I missed honey cakes, what I needed to do the next morning, how I could sneak out a holo to you or Rey... My connections to people, the bad and good and better. How I felt about it all.” It was honestly something that had been on his mind lately. How important his bonds were and how _strong_ they seemed to be. Steadily getting stronger...

Poe's eyes looked around the room, his lips parted slightly to prove that he was thinking through something big, some sort of revelation only he could see. Then, slowly, his eyes turned to Finn's. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he answered in a sigh, finishing off the bandage and rubbing the pad of his palm against it gently, smoothing out the edges.

When his eyes met Poe's, the other glanced down quickly before slowly looking up to him again. There was something different now, something Finn had missed in that breakthrough Poe just had. He looked shy. Nervous. “You ever-” His voice was nearly silent, breathy, his eyes glancing away like he was trying to decide if he wanted to say this or not. “You ever get... a _feeling_? … Between us?”

Finn's stomach fell, heart leaping to his throat. Poe could feel it, too? “Yeah,” he answered just as quietly, searching his face, grip staying gentle. Poe's eyes darted up to his, some sort of new light behind them. “Like-” Finn tried to describe it, struggling to find the words. “Like I know things I shouldn't. Like-...” Being _too_ close? Knowing when Poe was near and much too far away? Knowing when he was hurting and happy and afraid and tired? But not really knowing at all, as if it was something beyond knowledge. Like a _feeling_ , exactly like-

Poe laughed, tearing Finn from his thoughts by how hysterical it sounded. But his friend was already scrubbing at his eyes with one hand, something different off-setting him and something else sliding back to where they were before. “That just means you're smart, buddy,” Poe answered, sobering up enough to reveal his exhausted and slightly fake smile. Had he said the wrong thing? “Or it means I'm too easy to read, one of the two.”

“I think it means more than that,” Finn quickly said, trying to fix it and gaining all of Poe's attention at once. “It's a bond. It's something that can't be broken. It's like-...” It's like-... He redirected that thought. “It means we're close. Closer than most people get to be.”

When Poe smiled again, it wasn't fake but warm, tired, and maybe a little hurt somewhere in there. Finn wasn't sure how someone who could look so happy while being hurt for the same reasons. He wasn't sure how to help with that.

But Poe just clapped him on the knee. “Yeah. We are.”

Comms beeped from the cockpit, and the pilot turned his attention away, already getting up to answer. Finn put a hand on his shoulder and pushed him back down on the bed. “No, you stay. I have to send my report out anyway.” Maybe rest would help, he idly thought as he stood. “Put the cold pack on that eye?”

“Sir, yes, sir,” Poe grumbled but his smile was a lot less hurt suddenly. Maybe it really was sleep that he needed. Feeling a little better about it, Finn made his way to the cockpit.

An explanation on why he was answering took about two minutes, a rundown on the status of Poe's mission took about one minute, a report on his own mission took about fifteen minutes, the data upload took about ten seconds, and the argument about single-manned missions took about forty minutes.

Nearly an hour later, he found Poe unconscious in the only bed on the ship, the cold pack precariously balanced on his face. It was good Leia finally saw things his way, because Dameron's idea of taking care of himself left much to be desired.

After removing Poe's boots, putting away the medkit, and covering him up properly, Finn had every intention of getting in bed and curling around his friend to nap through the rest of the jump. But suddenly, he didn't feel very tired. As he watched Poe sleep, almost looking through him and out to the waves of light on the other side, he thought through their conversation and the connections with his friends that had been growing stronger as time passed.

Poe described it best, he thought. It was a feeling.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! ♥


End file.
